agoodyarn | an arranged marriage for ceaselesslabor

an arranged marriage for ceaselesslabor

Carcosa was thought to be lost.

There were all manner of myths, all manner of stories; some said that someone with the gift of earthquakes sunk the land into the oceans. Others said that it was lost far earlier, that the city itself slowly died as the continents shifted and the fabled Lake Hali dried up, the country lost to the dunes of the great deserts and unsuited to such an environment. Still others said it was entirely a story, made up, the kind of thing used by ancient travelers to spice up their tales and historical accounts to cover up for the deeds or misdeeds that politics would not allow them to speak of honestly. That last one was the most accepted of the stories, or it was until the headline came out in the Times.

Carcosa is Real! Envoy Arrives at UN!

It was, it turned out, an island nation located in the center of the Atlantic Ocean, far from any of the standard ocean routes and difficult to navigate to given the strangeness of the weather patterns in the area which meddled with magnetic reckoning. As the use of a magnetic compass had risen throughout the world (instead of relying on those with Directional gifts), the island had been 'missed' more and more until it was forgotten, only encountered by the occasional lost ship that by the same misfortune would never be able to find them again. They had become, by no surprise, incredibly isolationist and it was speculated by scientists that the natural energies that caused the anomaly might in fact be the reason why Carcosa was said to have singularly powerful magical gifts in its people and especially in its royal line. Others thought it might be a matter of natural selection or even careful breeding: cut off from the rest of the world and the advancements brought by crossing cultures, Carcosans had only been able to rely on themselves and their gifts, making those with stronger and more useful gifts much more likely to prosper and procreate given the relatively small population. Nevertheless, it turned out that that part of the 'myths' was true: there were a few more articles, later in the paper, discussing the gifts of the Envoy and his crew, all of which were the sort of thing deemed miraculous and even mythical these days. Technology had just made such things more trouble than they were worth, unstable and unreliable and reliant on a single individual; a machine could work for anyone, and science had no favorites.

It was the sort of thing that made magic feel more magical again, really.

And brought on a rush to exploit the island, it's people, and what resources they had which, as it turned out, were extensive. This led to the King closing the port and strictly limiting the interaction between the foreigners and his people. And, of course, to a second arrival in New York City.

King Hastur II himself, younger than anyone expected, unmarried and childless, walking into the UN himself and politely requesting a chair.

...how Daniel Saltzman, a lumber magnate, true, but no one with a title, not a Rockefeller or a Carnegie, managed to get his attention during that visit is anyone's guess. Some of the gossip rags decided it must have been a connection made over a shared tendency towards religion, while others were much more cynical and claimed it was about the money and nothing but the money, that Saltzman was an old traditionalist willing to invest in Carcosa more than the others who'd put their money into steam and electric and gas. No one can agree what it is, but what is evident is that Saltzman offered a husband for the mysterious young king and that said king had accepted.

How his adopted son, Arthur, took the news, well...

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Arthur had never wanted the prestige that being Daniel's son had offered him. He had come to Daniel officially through the courts and unofficially through a friend of a friend who was deep in family law. The boy's parents had died, leaving him orphaned, and his gifts unrecognized and undiscovered. But under Daniel's tutelage and encouragement, Arthur became a veritable prodigy at the piano. His music could bring an audience to tears, could make them laugh, or incite a riot. It was the sort of subtle, though insanely powerful, magic that went unnoticed by most people for so long. As he grew up and out of school, he learned how to channel the music by humming, then through thought alone. He could influence people's emotions with a simple push of his will.

Daniel worried about him, though. The death of his parents had affected him greatly, making him push away everyone important in his life, and it was easy to do when people came away angry or sad from every conversation with Arthur.

Arthur knew that Daniel wanted the best for him, which is why, when the news is delivered, he is more shocked than angry. Arthur would do anything for Daniel, so he consents to it, but that doesn't mean he is pleased.

Fast and ruthless, the anger finally comes, which means Arthur disappears for a three weeks straight before Daniel hires someone to bring him back for the wedding. A drunk (or hungover, or both) groom at least looks better with a bath and in a nice tux, and he's all but shoved down the proverbial aisle.

He is shoved down the aisle, but the King who would be his husband will walk with the stately pride of his station, bedecked in more gold and jewelry than most here have ever seen in person. He wears a mask, as he ever has in all of his public appearances, but the mask cannot hide his size and stature; he dwarfs his husband to be, who is one of the few close enough to see the dark skin beneath the jewelry outside of the golden robes.

The ceremony is Christian, of course, as everyone would expect from Saltzman... but there is also a robed figure beside the priest, the style of his robes identifying him as clearly a member of the convoy from Carcosa, who performs a portion of the ritual in an elegant, musical language that no one besides one of the grooms had ever heard. The first time Arthur will hear his husband's voice, it is to say- "...this is the part where you say 'this I vow'," and that voice is deep, velvet smooth and somewhat unnerving.

The King's face, or rather his mask, has been plastered all over the papers for weeks and Arthur, even in his stupor, could see them. He even caught himself wondering what he looked like underneath the mask.

Maybe he's hideous, he caught himself thinking once before he realized how uncharitable it was.

He isn't expecting the voice.

"What?" he mutters, then raises himself up a little. "I uh- this I vow," he repeats with a wince. He isn't aiming to make a good impression, but he also has suddenly realized the massive crowd have all of their eyes on him.

He sends out a thought to charm them rather than for them to think him a fool.

There's a small titter of companionable laughter, charmed and fond of him, but the way that the gaze behind the mask watches him says that he has some idea what just happened... and finds the whole thing charming in a very different sort of way. Those golden eyes turn and he dips his head to the priest before speaking in that musical language, far more than just that one phrase.

At which point the priest pulls out a dagger and holds out his hand to Arthur.

Again, that deep, low voice.

"He will cut your palm to draw your blood into the cup there. It will be healed within moments. He'll then do the same with me."

And the king will offer his hand first as an example, which startles the priest but he rolls with it, slicing the hand as the blood flows upward, directed by the point of the knife into a golden chalice. As he promised, the wound closes almost as quickly as it was opened.

Once more, the hand is put out to Arthur.

Edited 2025-11-24 23:11 (UTC)

Arthur balks, but the only change is the expression on his face. Even after the demonstration, he hesitates, but a quick look from Daniel straightens him out. The young man clears his throat and holds out his hand, almost in defiance of the ritual, rather than compliance.

The priest dips his head in appreciation before cutting his palm and the blood once more rises and goes to the cup as the cut closes. The strangest part, perhaps, is that throughout all of it, Arthur will feel no pain. Nothing. He will feel the knife, feel that his skin is being effected, but not the slice of the cut, not the burn of the edge. And once the wound is healed, it is like nothing had ever happened.

The King dips his head and nods as the priest begins what might be a prayer or a song or a sermon, or maybe all three, as the cup is lifted and turned upside down... and nothing comes out. At which point the Carcosan contingent cheers and the rest of the people there follow suit.

The priest gestures to the couple, at which point the King will offer his hand.

"We are wed," he provides. "Do you wish to come with me back to the hotel or return to your father's home before the reception, husband?"

Maybe he will regret it later, but he shakes his head. "He's not my father," he says, loudly enough to hurt Daniel. "So I'll go with you."

He rolls his shoulders back a little, threading his fingers in his hair to slick it back.

"I guess they packed all of my bags already."

Daniel looks wounded but resolute; he knows how Arthur can be, better than just about anyone. The two of them had weathered Bella's death together, but it had nearly torn them apart. He has little doubt that if Arthur hadn't been in the middle of his college education and needed his bills paid, it very well might have. But it had then and it will now, or so he believes.

The king nods to the answer, saying nothing on the matter, and offers his arm. Beneath the finery, Arthur will be able to feel a solid arm, muscular, and his husband will guide the two of them through a side exit that leads to a car that has been waiting for them. The king will offer his arm and open the door to assist Arthur with getting in.

"... watch your head, hmm?"

Another movement that is in spite of, in defiance of. He takes the king's arm and ducks inside the car.

He makes himself comfortable on the seat, reaching up to undo his tie. He's sobering a little, the enormity of what he's done finally hitting him. He looks to his hand, untouched, and is glad that Daniel didn't insist on rings for them.

He looks out the window, frowning.

The King will slide into the car after him, the door closing behind him as dark glass rises between them and the driver. The windows, it seems, are darkened as well, but there's not terribly much to see out the window but a New York city street as they pull out.

The king does not remove his mask. Not yet.

"You're upset," he says quietly. Thoughtful. "With me?"

"I don't know you," he says firmly. "I can't be angry with you when I don't know you. Pawns don't get angry at their kings. We're all on the board together," he mutters.

"What - uh...what hotel are you at?" he suddenly asks. There was no time to go over the logistics when Arthur was found only hours before the ceremony. He has no idea what they're doing or when.

"The St. Regis," he provides. "It was a recommendation from your-" A pause. "From Mr. Saltzman."

He watches Arthur for a long moment before he raises an eyebrow.

"I stood there and I went through with the ceremony. I could have called it off, but I didn't. And the arrangement with your father was made with me. I would understand if you were very angry with me."

But he leans back with a sigh.

"...you are, at least, interested in men, yes? I haven't trapped you in a marriage you will never wish to consumate, I hope?"

"Oh my god," he mutters, scrubbing his hand over his face. "No. I - I' bi. If that...fucking matters. Consumating this is not really what I'm thinking of right now."

He turns towards him.

"And for your fucking information, I could have called it off, too. Daniel didn't tie me down and make me. He didn't blackmail me."

"..the drive isn't that long, no," he notes with a small, wry huff, before he listens to the rest. And he nods to what Arthur is saying, but at the same time?

"You could have, yes. But it might have had repercussions on your relationship with... Mr. Saltzman." He holds up a hand. "I don't want you to be angry with me, to be clear. But I also won't pretend I had no part in the situation. That isn't really true, nor is it fair."

"Fine. You're the big mastermind. Good for you."

He sits back, staring out the heavily tinted windows. "What do you get out of it anyway?"

Daniel didn't elaborate and Arthur didn't ask. He couldn't. Daniel gives the word and Arthur jumps to follow because he has to.

There's a mask on, so there's really no telling, but there's definitely the impression of being squinted at.

"You. Nothing more or less."

He dips his head before huffing mildly.

"...what crawled up your ass and died, anyway?"

"Just because I did this willingly doesn't mean - "

He pauses.

"Are you even allowed to say that? You're royalty, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be more...classy?"

Now, the sense of an eyebrow raise.

"Who's going to tell me I can't?"

He's the king, after all; the highest authority in his own nation. Carcosa had never modernized to have a parliment. He has a government structure, but his authority is absolute.

"...though if it bothers you, I can certainly curb my tongue. I've no desire to be outright belligerent, after all."

"I like being belligerent," he counters with a huff, but there's the sense, in return, of a crack forming in the wall. It was easier to go through with this when Arthur didn't think of the King as a person. When he didn't have a personality and could just be someone who lives in the same place as him.

But giving him a sense of humor. Seeing him as a person.

He looks over finally, up at the mask. "It doesn't bother me."

"Well, that's a relief," he says with a small laugh, "since I'd certainly try but I don't tend to keep a 'civil' tongue in my personal life. It's too fucking much to do it the rest of the time."

Which is when the car actually stops and he will look to the door.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to exit first and open the door for you. Any objections?" A pause as he realizes that, well, if he hadn't known the hotel-

"The reception is going to be here. But we've scheduled an hour or so between to allow for travel, changes, and for the two of us to spend some time together before we're expected to be social with one another." A pause. "I'd... also like to remove my mask so you can see my face for a few minutes once we're in private."

It's a very good thing that he didn't choose to go to Daniel's before the reception, he thinks to himself. He would have missed this opportunity and - that would have driven him crazy all night. He wants to see underneath it, wants to tear off that mask so that he can see exactly who he's talking to, but he can wait this long.

"Alright," he agrees and rubs the spot on his hand that the knife had pierced. He fixes his tie around his neck again, expertly knotting it.

He nods, and he will nod to the door, which will open a moment later as he steps out to applause and cameras snapping. Then he will turn and, using his body as a shield, will gesture for Arthur to come with him so that they can make their way to the elevator and their suite.

He slumps a little as the elevator door closes and he puts in the key to go to the penthouse he's rented. As the elevator starts going up-

"Your hand hurts?"

Arthur has been in the spotlight a few times. For his music, for Daniel, and now for this. He keeps close to the King, head ducked as they disappear inside to the blessed silence and privacy of the lobby and then the elevator.

He shakes his head at the question.

"No. It feels like it should," he explains, rubbing at it again. "You know, I can handle the paparazzi," he says.

And by handle, he does not mean smile and give them what they want. There was one time, when he was in a particularly terrible mood, that an all out brawl had taken place in the press box. No one could remember later why they were so angry, but they didn't have a single salvageable picture of Arthur.

"Of course you can," he says with a wry chuckle, "but... I would hardly be a good husband if I let you face their nonsense without an attempt to block the way. Given that all of this is due to me."

He sighs out tiredly.

"Besides," he points out teasingly, "there's no need to start an international incident right this moment. I'd like to enjoy my wedding night not in some manner of cell, hmm?"

The elevator stops and the doors open and Arthur looks over to him with a roll of his eyes. "You can enjoy your wedding night wherever you want, but I - " He walks through the doors and into the penthouse with a low whistle. "I think I'm going to enjoy the quiet up here."

He turns around to face the King, gesturing for him to come inside.

an arranged marriage for ceaselesslabor

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